


A Study in Sleeping

by hidinginmybones



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bickering, Blowjobs, Canon Era, Fluff, M/M, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:58:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidinginmybones/pseuds/hidinginmybones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has trouble sleeping so he's taken to sneaking into the beds of the other Amis. One night, the rest of them are otherwise occupied and he finds himself alone. He's just about to drink himself into oblivion when there's a knock on his door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on one of the prompts from the kink meme, I can't remember which round though. It's also my first attempt at Canon. Hope you enjoy!

Grantaire loves sleeping beside Jehan. Jehan is warm and he never takes the whole bed. He shares his blankets and his bed willingly, even eagerly, welcoming Grantaire with murmured greetings when he turns up on another sleepless night. Sometimes Grantaire wakes with his fingers in his hair and a smile on Jehan’s lips as he asks how Grantaire had slept. The morning is always pleasurable as well, as they often share breakfast and perhaps a glass of wine. That is, until Bahorel enters any room they are in and all of Jehan’s attention is then taken up with fussing over his bruises and cut knuckles. Grantaire likes watching them together as well, likes watching them dance around each other in the sweetest ways. Bahorel is usually so hard, but with Jehan, when it’s only he and the poet in the room (because no one ever notices the drunk in the corner) he turns soft, almost loving. It warms Grantaire’s heart to see.

He likes sleeping beside Bahorel occasionally, but for entirely different reasons. Bahorel is an awful bed partner. He sprawls across the bed, snores incredibly loudly and kicks in his sleep. What Grantaire likes about it is that sometimes, very seldomly, Bahorel clings in his sleep, wraps his entire body around his bed partner and holds them to him. These are the nights that Grantaire likes the best with him. When Bahorel is wrapped around him like that, he feels comforted and safe. Bahorel is a brick wall of a man; nothing will get through him if he doesn’t want it to. Grantaire wonders if this is how he’ll hold Jehan when they finally figure out what it is that is between them and then he concludes that Bahorel will hold the poet even more fiercely.

Courfeyrac sleeps like the dead. He had been Grantaire’s first. He’d heard that Marius was sharing his lodgings from time to time and had thought it would be permissible to do so as well. Oftentimes, Grantaire cannot fall asleep. He is not sure whether it is because of too much wine or not enough but his thoughts tend to get away from him, drowning him with their intricacies and forcing him awake. Sometimes he attempts to get dead drunk just to give him a bit of respite but it never works. The only solution he has found is sneaking into his friends’ rooms and sharing their beds with them for a night. The morning after this first night, Coureyrac had been confused but when Grantaire had explained that sometimes, his mind just will not quiet on its own; he’d been more than willing to accommodate Grantaire. Now, he even warns him of nights when Marius may show up.

Now, occasionally, Courfeyrac will seek him out for similar comfort. Jehan does so often as well. Even Combeferre has been known to seek him out but oftentimes, Grantaire still finds himself alone at night. 

After one very tiring week for Les Amis, Grantaire finds himself in his own bed, for once, alone. He detests sleeping on his own now, and considering he has not encountered a single locked bedroom door in weeks, he doesn’t often need to. This night, however, Marius is spending with Courfeyrac and seemingly Cosette as well and Jehan and Bahorel had left the Musain together, walking far more closely than he has ever seen them do previously. There is no place for Grantaire in either of those beds and they’re the ones that he frequents the most. Joly is currently fussing over another illness that he must have and is not even letting Bossuet visit whereas Combeferre had still been at the Musain when Grantaire had left, arguing quietly with Enjolras. His empty bed feels incredibly lonely and he reaches blindly for a bottle of wine but stops when there is a quiet knock on the door.

Grantaire sets the bottle aside, still corked, and shuffles toward the door. He is only in his underclothes and shirtsleeves but in his defense, he had been about to take his bed. He opens it and stares in confusion. On the other side of his door is Enjolras, looking like a fallen angel with his hair in disarray, and his face lined with worry hidden beneath a hardness that Grantaire is used to seeing. He looks at Enjolras so often that he can tell his mood just at a glance. He is nervous about something. Despite the lateness of the hour, he is seemingly still thrumming with energy. Grantaire does not know how he does it. Enjolras seems to never sleep but to always be so perfectly put together and energetic. He must be fueled by his passion for Patria; he must rely on something less tangible than wine and spirits.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says softly, surprising Grantaire with the gentleness in which he is able to utter his name. “I have recently been unable to sleep at night. The streets of Paris are alive with revolution and I can feel it in my blood and my bones. I, however, must rest in order to retain a clear mind in the planning of this revolution and yet it eludes me every night when I take to my bed. I have been informed by others, Combeferre and Courfeyrac more particularly, that you share your bed with ease and that they always sleep more fully when next to you.”

“Would you like to come in?” Grantaire asks instead of providing any sort of answer.

Enjolras nods sharply then walks past him into his room. “How do you do it? How do you make them all able to sleep so well in the face of what we are about to do?”

“That, I cannot tell you, Enjolras,” Grantaire says silkily. “I can only show you. Would you like for me to do so?”

“Yes,” Enjolras replies and he looks suddenly desperate for it. It becomes apparent that he has been lacking sleep for some time now and Grantaire wonders as to why he hasn’t asked for this sooner. “Please,” he continues, softly. He looks vulnerable, but only for a moment. It’s an expression that Grantaire has never seen Enjolras wear before. 

“First, you must remove this coat. Make yourself comfortable, wear whatever you would if you were in your own home,” he says softly. He watches as Enjolras nods and shrugs out of his jacket with ease. Grantaire takes it and hangs it gently on the back of the only chair that he owns. He turns back to Enjolras, who is wearing barely anything, and nearly chokes on his breath. “N-now get into bed,” he manages after a moment. 

Enjolras nods and slips between Grantaire’s sheets. Grantaire cannot believe his luck; this is something that he’s dreamed about since the first time he’d seen Enjolras, standing on a table and proclaiming the necessity for equality among all men. Grantaire has never believed that such a thing is possible but if anyone could inspire it, Enjolras is that person. “Are you joining me or are you just going to stare all night?” Enjolras asks testily. His tone forces a smile to Grantaire’s face. He strips off his own clothing and slides in beside Enjolras. 

“Repose in my arms,” Grantaire says, still using the same soft voice. It feels strange, truly. He’d never expected that Enjolras would need him this way. The others- of course they need him to calm them, to relax them, but Grantaire had never imagined Enjolras needing something like this, especially not from one like him. 

Grantaire holds him softly and hums quietly, completely content. There have been times with the others that he’s done more than just provide a warm body to sleep next to, pleasuring them with his hands and mouth until they manage to drop off but he dares not do so with Enjolras. Enjolras is the sun, hot and terrible in his fiery passion and Grantaire is already too close, near enough to be consumed. Surely, if he moves any closer, he’ll become part of those flames and burn up. He would never be able to forgive himself if he infected Enjolras’ purity with his filth. 

Instead he strokes Enjolras’ long hair and whispers softly to him. He presses their bodies together in order to share his warmth with the blond and pulls the blankets tightly around them. Despite the swiftly approaching summer, the nights still tend to be chilly and Grantaire cannot stand the thought of Enjolras being cold. 

After what feels like hours, Enjolras finally stirs. Grantaire had been sure he was asleep but he’d been wrong. “I do not know what the others use you for but I sleep no better with you than I would have in my own bed. The difference is that here I cannot get any work done while you wrap yourself around me and try to lull me into unconsciousness,” he complains.

The words sting and Grantaire feels momentarily taken aback but he is used to Enjolras and his sour character (at least concerning Grantaire) so he gently withdraws his arms from Enjolras and admits, “it’s true that with the others there is oftentimes something else that I do to help them achieve their slumber but I could not possibly do so with you…” he murmurs. He’d been close to dormancy himself but Enjolras’ sudden outburst had woken him. 

“What are you speaking of Grantaire? I came here with the intention of allowing you to help me, and now you refuse? I told Combeferre I would be better off in my rooms. At least there I have books to inspire me,” Enjolras replies. His tone is biting but Grantaire tries not to take him too seriously. He had said that he has been lacking in sleep for days and it’s that bone weary exhaustion that always causes Enjolras to be the most cruel. “Do to me what you do to them and we’ll see if you are of any use to me.” 

“Are you certain? What I do for the others is not something I believe that you would enjoy,” Grantaire counters. He props himself up on his elbows and peers down at the blond with a concerned expression. Enjolras does appear to be exhausted and Grantaire finds himself agreeing far more quickly than he believes he should. “You’ll have to remove the rest of your clothing, Enjolras. We cannot do this while you’re so covered.” 

“I find it impossible to believe that the others are such deviants,” Enjolras says coldly. “This is just another plot of yours to embarrass me in front of everyone.” 

“It is not,” Grantaire states, still with the softness clinging to his tone. “I have done this for all of the others.” 

“Even Combeferre?” 

“Often with Combeferre.”

“Then do as you must,” Enjolras sighs. He climbs out of the bed, shivers because of the chill of Grantaire’s room, and strips the rest of his clothing off. He doesn’t hesitate to return to Grantaire, who is holding his arms out for him. “I trust you.” 

Grantaire lays Enjolras down on the bed and offers him a small smile. He feels drunk already even though he has not even been imbibing, on this day, at least. He wishes that there were more candles but he’d been neglecting purchasing more in favour of purloining more wine. He has only two and one of them is flickering. Instead of focusing on how he wishes for this to happen, he focuses on how it is happening. 

He doesn’t kiss Enjolras. He is not worthy of those lips that spout such passion. He drops his head down and presses his own lips to Enjolras’ chest and slowly draws them lower on his body. He hears Enjolras gasp, feels his muscles clench beneath Grantaire’s clever tongue. He places a wide palm on Enjolras’ member only to discover that it is swelling rapidly. Clearly Enjolras isn’t uninterested in the desires of the flesh, he merely denies himself the pleasure of a coupling. With that in mind, Grantaire’s mouth is southward bound and he finally touches his tongue to the head of Enjolras’ manhood and grins when Enjolras begins to shake. 

“Stop me if you must,” Grantaire states before returning to his task. He does not hear any protestations and so he continues his task, deftly taking more of Enjolras’ into his mouth. It is not long before Enjolras swells to his full length, it is not long before his slender fingers are buried in Grantaire’s thick hair. The sounds he makes are more intoxicating than any wine and Grantaire desires them more than absinthe. 

“Grantaire-” Enjolras gasps. “Do not st- please-”

There is no part of Grantaire that wishes to halt this and so he redoubles his efforts, swirling his tongue around the head, swallowing Enjolras’ cock down and bringing his hand down to aid in massaging his manhood. It doesn’t take Enjolras long. Grantaire does not know whether this is because he is inexperienced or if he had just needed release this badly but Grantaire swallows all that Enjolras offers before moving back up his body and collapsing beside him. 

Enjolras is pliant beside him and allows Grantaire to take him into his arms easily. “Thank you,” he murmurs before resting his head on Grantaire’s broad shoulder and closes his eyes. Grantaire is unsure as to when he takes his own sleep but when he wakes, Enjolras is already gone but the spot beside him still seeps warmth so he must not have been gone for long. Grantaire smiles into his pillow and then forces himself from his bed. He feels better today than he has in too long but he knows it’s only fleeting. 

Days pass and often Grantaire finds Enjolras at his door at night. Every time, he allows Enjolras to come in and he does everything that the blond asks of him to aid him in achieving a good night’s rest. He doesn’t only use his mouth like the first night but does many other things, their couplings becoming more and more heated each night Enjolras spends with him. It becomes a habit. Grantaire stops going to the rooms of the others and they have not come to him in weeks because it seems they all know that Enjolras is likely to knock on the door on any given night. Grantaire has never been so satisfied in his life but he worries that they are beginning to take things too far, especially without speaking of what is happening between them.

It is after one such coupling, one where Grantaire had used oil and slicked himself up before entering Enjolras and fucking him slowly until neither could withstand it anymore, that Enjolras speaks before taking his sleep. “If that is what you do with the others, I ask you to stop,” Enjolras tells him after a long moment of silence. 

Grantaire props himself up on an elbow and peers at the beautiful vision of perfection lying next to him. Enjolras refuses to meet his eyes and Grantaire can only think that it is because he is ashamed. “I will not,” he replies. “I will not cease to participate in something that brings myself and whoever I am with such joy.” 

“I do not wish you to conclude this act entirely but I wish for you to stop participating in such acts with anyone other than myself,” Enjolras says in a soft voice. “The others- they have each other. Jehan and Bahorel, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, Feuilly has his mistress and Joly and Bossuet have one as well. Marius has his beloved Cosette and I have no one. Had I known that this could bring such relaxation, I may not have been so swift to scorn it. I wish for you to only do this for me, with me. But you are a free man, Grantaire, and if that is not what you choose, there is nothing that I will say or do to fault you for it.” 

Grantaire truly believes that any of the others would agree to indulging in this vice with Enjolras but he does not say so. He believes that Enjolras realises the truth of this as well. Grantaire has wanted Enjolras to ask this of him since the very first time he’d seen Enjolras on top of that table. “This is something that I want as well,” he replies when Enjolras finally meets his gaze. “I will stop with the others if only because I would prefer to devote all of my attention to you. This does not mean, however, that I will cease my arguments with you at the Musain or fall into line with your revolution, Enjolras.”

“Nor would I expect that of you,” the blond replies. He leans in slowly and presses his lips to Grantaire’s. Grantaire deepens the kiss immediately, a test that Enjolras passes easily by pulling Grantaire in for more access. When they separate, Enjolras admits, “I had known… before and I wanted to come here tonight and all of the nights previous to this. I was not lying about my lack of sleep and now, it’s something else in which I must indulge, now that I know I won’t be sharing you with my comrades anymore. Will you take your meal with me in the morning?” 

“Sleep, Enjolras. The world needs you healthy in order to be saved. I will go to the market and collect bread and eggs for our breakfast when we wake.” He offers Enjolras a small smile and Enjolras draws him in for another kiss before settling himself against Grantaire’s chest and closing his eyes. Soon his breathing is even and Grantaire can tell that he’s found the rest that has been eluding him for so long. Grantaire is glad to have helped and even more satisfied with the knowledge that he will be doing so more often in the future.

The thought comforts him as he drifts off as well.


End file.
